The tour was a huge success. Catfish were a lot more popular than they had let on, which made me feel guilty for teasing them about fame, seeing as they were doing pretty well. The ride had been great. Coming from Llandudno with a not-very-bright future, I had never expected to go to so many places in such little time, with the man I loved to the end. The places we went shaped me, in a way, each city marking my personality, opening my eyes. The final stop was New York City.
New York had been little more than a dream when I was younger, the big city, home to Spider-Man and Captain America, with the yellow cabs and stacks of pancakes. In my mind that impression still held, as childish as it was, even as I was skipping off the plane, hand-in-hand with Van, the dreadful feeling of travel sickness subsiding as I imagined the midnight sky, lit with skyscrapers taller than I could imagine.
Van wrapped one arm around my waist as our footsteps echoed along with everyone else's through the empty airport. Everyone was too tired to be excited. Everyone except Van and I.
"We can go to the Empire State Building!"
"And Rockefeller!"
"And Grand Central Station!"
"Don't you forget the Statue of Liberty!"
"I bet the M&Ms World is huge!"
"We've got to go to Times Square too!"
"I just can't wait to try the food!"
"Oh would you two just be quiet, and quit acting like two hyper active kids who've just drunk two litres of coke! I'm really tired," Larry grumbled, hitting his best friend over the head with a lazy thump.
"Oi!" Van screeched, causing Bob to flinch, Benji to grimace, Bondy to put his headphones on and Larry to snap, "shut the fuck up, mate!"
"Come on Van, let's just tone it down a little," I said, trying not to giggle too much.
The drive to the hotel was a bit dreary with the lack of talking due to the fear of being smacked by Larry. But of course, Van and I found a way around it.
Sup bellend? I texted Van.
Sup bender? He replied.
I: Got any jokes?
V: What do you call a short, angry Northerner who hasn't had enough sleep and has big feet?
I: What?
V: Larry.
And we burst into laughter. Except not. Because we couldn't, otherwise the short, angry Northerner with big feet would slap us silly, so in the end, the two of us (who had been placed on opposite side of the cab) sat there rocking in our seats, holding our noses and giggling like god knows what. This, of course, had Larry silently fuming, knowing his best friend so well that he knew we were laughing about something to do with him, but couldn't shout at us for it, cause he didn't know what we'd said.
By the time we got to the hotel, Van and I had finished two giant sized packets of Harribos and a bottle of coke each, after drinking tea non stop on the plane, so we were running high on caffeine and sugar. We Benji checked in, and we all made our way up to our rooms which were scattered about in the hotel.
"Room 704, 704, 704, 704, ah!" Van said, finding our room with the brass numbers '704' nailed next to the dark oak door, and above the little plastic ringer. Van slotted the the key card into the key card thingy, and hauled our luggage into the room.
"Van, get your dirty ass off the bed and into the shower," I said, pulling Van off the double bed in the middle of the room.
"But I don't want to!" He moaned as I shoved him in the direction of the bathroom.
